


Storm

by hawkqirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Also I utilize my knowledge of French for a bit, Angst, F/M, Fluff, It happens, Later pregnancy, Smut, bucky sleeps around, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkqirl/pseuds/hawkqirl
Summary: The reader has grown up knowing Steve and Bucky all of her life, and when they sign up for war, things get more or less complicated as secrets become unburied.





	1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing you knew about James Buchanan Barnes, it was that he was a flirt.

  
He wasn’t just any flirt, not really. He didn’t hit on every girl that passed him by, but he damn well could’ve if he wanted to. That was just in his nature. That was just who he was, and you knew that.

  
You had been walking up the stairs to your apartment, your waitress clothing downtrodden with the days’ work, and bags of groceries underneath your arm, when you saw the taller man at it again, pushing some girl up against the wall as he kissed her fiercely, her legs wrapped around his hips and her mouth emitting small, breathless gasps.

  
“Shit, Barnes,” you said, walking past the two. “Couldn’t even make it inside the apartment?”

  
You tsked at his behavior as he stuck his middle finger out towards you, indicting that he gave absolutely zero fucks.

  
Sighing, you unlocked the door, leaving him to do what he did best behind you. Closing the door, you placed the groceries on the small, wooden table that was a hand-me-down from your family, a sort of house warming gift. You unloaded them, putting all of your items away, and then you pulled out your tips from your apron’s pocket, the coins adding up slowly. You counted them: a little over three dollars, not too bad.  
Pulling your hair out of it’s pin, letting it fall down over your shoulders, you rubbed your temples with your fingers. Rent was getting harder and harder to pay with each month, and sooner or later, you’d most likely be out of this place.

  
You, Steve, and of course, Bucky, had all chosen this apartment complex to be your guys’ new home because you all knew that you couldn’t be seperated. You’d been friends since childhood, all of you, and you were closer than most other people could even imagine. You’d all made a promise that day, that you would all stay together, no matter what happened.

  
And so you did.

  
Lately, though, you had started to wonder if it was worth it. Sure, you probably owed your life to these boys, but was it worth struggling this bad?

  
Right then, there was a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts. You figured it could only be one person.

  
Opening the door, you beamed, “Steve!” The smaller, blond haired boy stood there, holding his sketch book in hand.

  
“He’s occupied at the moment, figured I’d give him some privacy,” Steve merely said, “Sorry.”

  
You waved it off. “Stevie, you don’t need to apologize to me. Just be sure to smack that idiot around sometimes and tell him that you live there too, y'hear? You can’t keep lettin’ him walk all over ya.”

  
“I know, I know…” Steve trailed off, and then looked at you again. “Did you want to continue the drawing?”

  
“Oh, hell yeah,” you said, “Just give me a moment, I gotta go change first.”

  
You scampered into your bedroom, throwing off your clothes and grabbed the only expensive thing you owned, a pair of matching diamond earrings and a sparkling diamond necklace fashioned in the shape of a heart. You clipped them on, shook your hair a bit, and then walked back into the living room, where Steve had already begun to set up.

  
“Ready?” He asked you unfazedly, having seen your naked body plenty of times before this.

  
“Yup,” you said, situating yourself into a lying position on the couch. You laid on your side, one hand over the curve of your hips, and another supporting your head, keeping it propped up.

  
Steve immediately set to work, eyeing you for a little while before drawing out onto his paper.

  
You had been doing this for a while, now. Originally, Steve had needed help with female anatomy. One thing led to another, and you both had created the mutual agreement of allowing him to use your body to better understand female anatomy as he drew. You trusted him, and while he was at first a blushing, stuttering, babbling and apprehensive mess, he eventually got used to it. He had drawn you several times now, and he had painted you a few more times than that. You felt both honored and ecstatic that someone actual found you beautiful enough to be a model, since someone else clearly didn’t think so, and-

  
“Chin up, please,” Steve said quietly. You did as you were told, and lifted your chin slightly. “Thank you.”

  
“No problem,” you huffed, closing your eyes as you thought of the potential nap you could be taking.  
Just then, you heard a thud coming from the room next door, causing you to both chuckle.  
“One day, that boy’s lil’ friend is gonna fall off and he won’t be able to do this no more,” you laughed, although Steve noticed the hint of sadness in your voice.

  
“I’m sorry about him,” Steve apologized, momentarily stopping his work.

  
“Don’t be,” you said, “He’ll do what he wants to do. Or who he wants to do.”

  
“Even though it’s not you?” He asked and you thought about it.

  
“Huh.”

  
You didn’t like to think about your feelings for him, mainly because you knew it would never happen. Especially not when he fucked every girl that gave him even the slightest bit of attention.

  
“Alright, Rogers, back to work. It’s gettin’ chilly,” you told him, throwing your hair over you shoulder. “And I gotta get to cooking, yeah?”

  
He let the topic drop– he knew you didn’t like to talk about it. You weren’t one to openly discuss your feelings about your stupid crush on the worst person possible. Your stupid, unrequited crush on one of your best friends.  
It was pointless to think about, really. You had better things to do with your time than pine over a guy who obviously didn’t look at you as anything more than a friend. A sister, even.

  
The thudding on the wall became even louder, right before it went away entirely, indicating that the pair had moved somewhere else.  
You tried to tune out the noises, you really did. It was just so hard, especially when it was otherwise silent in the room.

  
“Can you turn on the record behind you?” you finally asked, annoyed and fed up with the idea of him fooling around again.  
Steve nodded, following her instructions and turning on the record, which turned out to be one of your guys’ favorites: Glenn Miller’s best hits. When he returned to his seat across from you, the familiar chords of Moonlight Serenade began, and you immediately started to feel calmer.

  
Steve continued to draw you as the music continued, his eyes roaming across your body and every curve, every turn, ever rise and fall of each breath.

  
It was something special, you thought, the quietness and silence that surrounded the two of you. If someone were to walk in, they’d probably think that the scene was sexually charged; but it wasn’t. You didn’t see Steve like that, and he didn’t see you like that. You two were just so close that it didn’t matter if he saw you naked or not. It wasn’t something you really felt the need to hide around him.

  
The other guy, though. That was a different situation entirely. Much more complicated.

  
You found yourself falling asleep to the sounds of the pianos and the flutes and clarinets and other instruments, successfully lulling you to sleep.

  
You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping for when Steve tapped your shoulder, waking you up. “What? What is it?” you asked, feeling groggy and confused.

  
“I’ve gotten enough for today,” he said as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

  
“How long have I been asleep?” You asked, sitting upright and stretching your legs.

  
“A couple hours,” he replied as you raised your arms above your head, stretching in an attempt to wake yourself up. “I started making dinner.”

  
“You didn’t have to do that,” you yawned. “I was gonna get to it eventually.”

  
“You looked like you needed the rest,” Steve said, handing your clothes to you. You pulled on the shirt and other articles of clothing as he walked over to the stove, turning off the fire.

  
“You think Bucky’s going to be joining us?” you wondered as you slowly made your way to the small, worn table.

  
“Probably not,” Steve said, only for a knocking at the door to stop him.

  
knock, knock. Pause. knock, knock.

  
Already knowing who it was, you opened the door, finding Bucky there, his hair a right mess and his lips still puffy.

  
“You look like shit, James,” you told him as you let him in, the dark haired man taking a step inside the room.

  
“You don’t,” he said thoughtfully, but you just rolled your eyes.

  
“That kinda stuff don’t work on me, James,” you told him, “Not like how they do on those girls you keep bringin’ on by.”

  
“Don’t think I don’t know how you are, darlin’. Spent plenty of time to know that you always have a stick up your ass,” Bucky teased, causing you to shake your head.

  
“I ain’t your ‘darlin”,“ you reminded him, “Why don’t you go call back that young dame and call her that? Assuming you even knew her name.”

  
“I knew her name!” He defended, although not sounding completely sure of himself.

  
“Oh yeah? What was it?” you asked defiantly, staring straight up into the tall mans eyes.

  
Bucky had to think about it for a minute, before he said to himself, “It wasn’t too long…now what was it…”

  
“I rest my case,” you said as you moved to the kitchen where Steve was. “When you two were gettin’ at it, what’d you call her?”

  
A flash of panic went across his face an he quietly said, “You wouldn’t want to know.”

  
“Ew. That is disgusting,” you crinkled your nose, feeling the small blossom of jealousy grow in your heart the more you talked about it. “Ain’t it, Stevie?”

  
Steve looked up from the pot he was stirring in and said, “Well, I mean, Buck’s gonna be Buck, so-”

  
“Exactly!” Bucky exclaimed.

  
“But,” Steve continued, “I do live there too, so I guess…uh.”

  
“I thought you liked coming over here to see Y/N,” Bucky said.

  
“I do! It’s just-”

  
Bucky thought about it. “What do you two do in here, anyway?”

  
You looked at Steve, only for him to look at you. “None of your damn business, Barnes.”

  
“‘Scuse me?” Bucky asked. “Can’t a guy be curious?”

  
“Not when it don’t involve him,” you said, taking out a plate and piling it with the dinner Steve had made.

  
“What–did you sleep together or somethin’?” Bucky asked, causing your cheeks to flare.

  
Who did he think he was, anyway? He had no right to know, not when he didn’t care about you in the slightest.

  
“None of your damn business,” you growled. Putting your plate down, you said, “Now I done lost my appetite. Thanks anyway, Steve.”

  
You walked over to where your boots were, slipping them on and throwing on your coat.

  
“Where you goin’, doll?” Bucky asked as you opened the door, letting the winter air enter into the room.

  
“Don’t worry about it,” you said coolly, closing the door behind you as you left the apartment complex.

  
You found yourself aimlessly walking down the streets, trying to clear your head as you went. Suffice to say, it didn’t work. Not much.

  
Just as you were about to walk back, a woman approached you, her head low and a thin shawl covering her shoulders. “Excuse me…” She said, her voice delicate and gentle. “I’m looking for someone…could you help me?”  
She was beautiful, yet you still got that sense that something was up with her.

  
“Can you tell me who you’re lookin’ for? A name, maybe?” You asked, being ever the helper.

  
The woman stuck out her hand that was clenched in a fist, and them she opened it, throwing it’s contents at you. “I think I’ve found you just fine.”

  
The contents of her hand was a dark colored dust, spraying over your clothing and your body, forcing you to cough. “What-?” You tried to move, only to find yourself unable to do so. Looking down at your legs, you saw the dust wrapping around your legs, hardening over them into some weird type of a cocoon. The cocoon only spread, getting higher and higher. “What’s happening?” You panicked as the dark matter wrapped around your chest, making it harder to breathe each and every second. The woman started to walk away, only for you to try and call out to her. “W-wait…” you tried to say, your voice barely rising above a whisper. “Come back…please…”  
That was when the cocoon swallowed you entirely.

  
—–

  
Bucky stared at the door that you had just left out of, a series of strange emotions swirling around in his head.

  
Turning to Steve, he asked, “What was that?”

  
“What was what?” Steve wondered.

  
“That. Why did Y/N walk away like that?” he asked.

  
Steve only shrugged, knowing that it wasn’t his place to explain your annoyance.

  
“You sleeping with her?” Bucky asked, jealousy evident in his tone. Jealous of his best friend.

  
“What? Bucky, really-”

  
“Are you sleeping with Y/N?” Bucky demanded to know, his voice getting louder.

  
“No! I wouldn’t do that. Not to you,” Steve said simply, looking his friend in the eyes. “Or to her.”

  
Bucky felt himself slightly relax, his anger subsiding. Sighing, he took a seat, running a hand through his hair. “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.”

  
“You’re not an idiot, Bucky,” Steve attempted to console him, even though it clearly wasn’t working.

  
“I called that girl Y/N,” Bucky admitted. “And I had to play it off like it was just some kinda kink.”

  
“Bucky…” Steve began.

  
“I don’t even know why I still do it,” he said somberly, “Why I get with all these girls only to pretend it’s her. She knows that I keep bringing these other girls around, but she never says anything about it. And I keep on doing this, and it’s wrong, I know, but I just wish that…”

  
“I understand,” Steve pat his friend on the back. “I know.”

  
—

  
The cocoon started to crumble. It cracked, creaked, and broke little by little, until you were free.  
Taking in a deep breath, you coughed as oxygen filled your lungs, allowing you the opportunity to breathe.

  
You coughed a bit, noticing that it was still night and it was still dark. You hadn’t bothered to search for the woman, writing her off as some insane occurrence that wasn’t meant to happen.  
Walking briskly back towards your apartment, you felt the uncomfortable presence of someone fallowing closely behind you.

  
“Who’s there?” You questioned, turning around the moment you fell under a street lamp. The darkness didn’t respond. “Don’t think me mad, I know someone’s there!”

  
That was when the woman from earlier stepped into the light, removing the shawl from her field of vision. “Y/N.”

  
“How do you know my name?” You asked bewilderedly.

  
“I don’t mean you any harm. I was only trying to save you,” she said.

  
“Save me how?”

  
The woman only smiled. “People like us need to protect one another, as I’m sure you’ll come to learn.”

  
“Who are you?” You wondered alarmedly.

  
“My name is Jiaying. And I hope you do wonders with this gift of yours.”

  
With that, she disappeared into the night, leaving you more confused than ever before.

  
——–

  
The next day, you went to work, as usual, and came home, your feet aching and drowsiness flooding your senses.

  
You probably should’ve been watching how you were chopping up those vegetables, but you were just so tired that you didn’t really care.

  
Slice. Looking down at your fingers, you saw the familiar sight of red seeping from a cut on your finger, the pain sharp and tense.

  
“Ah,” you breathed, immediately opening up the bandage cupboard and pulling out the first aid kit. Right as you were about to grab a bandage, you looked down at your finger again. You noticed that the pain had subsided, only for you to see the cut close itself up on it’s own, as though it were never there at all. No scarring, no wound, no nothing.

  
“What…”

  
There was something very, very wrong with you.

  
———- (time skip)

  
“Why? What’s wrong with him?” You demanded to know. Bucky’s expression of disapproval didn’t falter or diminsh as you continued, “He’s a real swell guy, James! Why aren’t you happy for me? Why can’t you just, for once be happy for me?”

  
“He’s not right for you,” Bucky repeated, firm in his beliefs.

  
“Who the hell is, then?” you asked incredulously. “Enlighten me!”

  
His jaw clenched, only for him to again say, “He’s not right for you.”  
With that, he walked away, ending the discussion.

  
——

  
You received the letter on a dreary Monday, where it was nearly raining and the clouds looked ominous and unfortunate.  
Your heart clenched tightly in your chest as you realized that you had to tell. The two boys closest to you of the news.

  
It wasn’t going to be easy.  
When they came on by later that day,you told them. You’d be joining the war.

  
“What? Why?” Steve asked, beyond confused.

  
“I wanna make a difference. I want…” You recalled what that woman, Jiaying had said. “I want to do wonders.”

  
The boys were quiet in front of you, not saying anything. Then Steve said, “Well, that’s good.” He paused for a moment, and then he said, “When do you ship out?”

  
“Wednesday,” you said. “To France. They figure since I can speak a bit of the language, I’d be helpful there.”

  
“That’s…great, isn’t it, Buck?” Steve asked the other man, who for the first time in your life was actually speechless. Noticing the tenseness in the air, Steve quietly dismissed himself, “I’ll…leave you two to talk.”

  
With Steve gone and out the door, you felt more awkward than you’d ever felt before. “James,” you said. “I’m sor-”

  
“Damn it, Y/N,” he said, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.” You weren’t sure if he was talking to himself or to you, and you weren’t sure which was more preferred.

  
“James-”

  
“You could die, Y/N!” He exclaimed.

  
“It’s a war, James,” you said, knowing fully well by now that you couldn’t die. “That’s a risk…of war.”

  
“No,” he said, “I can’t lose you. Not you.”

  
“What? James, why can’t you ever support me in anything I do, ever? I can’t spend time with other guys, you didn’t approve of John, and now this,” you said.

  
“John was a shithead who broke up with you because he wasn’t ready for any commitment,” Bucky argued.

  
You scoffed, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  
Bucky’s face faltered for a moment, and then he said, “That’s different.”

  
“How is that any different!?” you felt anger flare up into your heart. “How is that any different from you fucking all of these different girls because you can’t handle commitment to one girl!”

  
“Because the one girl I actually want doesn’t want me!” He shouted. You felt your heart slow down at his words. “I can’t have her, so I sleep with these other girls, pretending that it’s her.” He looked directly into your eyes, his own like a stormy ocean. “Pretending that it’s you.”

  
You couldn’t speak. Not at first, anyway. “Why…why didn’t you say anything before?”

  
“Christ, I don’t know,” he outstretched his arms in a shrug, “I’ve wanted to tell you. So many times before. I just kept on doing these stupid things in front of you, and then you got with John. And now…”

  
“You have the worst timing,” you said. “This is all wrong.”

  
“Y/N-”

  
“No, you listen to me, James,” you began, “You don’t know what it was like to see that one person you care so much about sleeping with all of these other people practically every night. You don’t know how it felt, because you weren’t on my side of things. I thought that you didn’t even see me. That you didn’t even notice me as anything other than a friend. I don’t know what type of game you think this is, because it just isn’t fun anymore.”

  
“Y/N, I love you!” He said.

  
“That’s what you tell all those other girls, huh? To get them to stay the night?” You asked cynically, “And now that I’m leaving, you want me to join the ranks of the women you’ve bedded!?”

  
“Please, Y/N,” he said, “Why don’t you believe me?”

  
“Because I’ve been hurt before. And a while back, someone helped me to never get hurt again,” you said. “I love you, James. I just can’t seem to convince myself that you could love me, too.”

  
“What do you want me to do? How can I prove that I love you?”

  
You gently touched his cheek. “Let me go.”

  
—-

  
Dearest James,

 It sure is chilly around here. These French apparently don’t think so, though.  The guys here like the fact that there’s a lady around, but if they think that they’ll be enjoying my company, they have another thing coming. None of them compare to a certain fella I know.  It isn’t too bad here, I’ve got my own squad. The big guy in charge says that I’ve got a lot of potential. He’s probably wrong.  It fucking sucks sleeping in camps at night, because I love my beds and I must admit that even though my bed wasn’t the best, it was still better than these sleeping bags we gotta snooze in.  You probably won’t even respond to this. How are you and Steve doing? Is he still drawing? Are you still doing what you do best?  Anyhow, I hope you’re both doing good. Hopefully better than me!  Write back, will ya?

 Love,

 Y/N Y/L/N

  
Dear baby doll,

 I can’t imagine you as a soldier. All I see is that little girl who kept crying because you would never get your turn back on the playground. You would always need me to fight for your honor.  And yeah, that punk is still drawing. He says that I can’t see the ones he’s been working on lately, though. He said they had something to do with you, so my question is why didn’t you tell me about whatever it is?  Its real lonely without you around, baby doll. I really miss your cooking, and I’m positive Steve does, too. I miss seeing your face, although you probably don’t want to hear that.  Sorry for the slightly late reply. But, what can I say? I’m willing to follow you wherever you go. And that has landed me in England. Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.  Steve tried to get in, too, but it didn’t work out. The kids heart is in the right place, it’s just war isn’t made for everyone.  And before you get mad, just know that this was my decision. You were right before. This is a war, and I should be doing my part, like you. That’s probably why you’re so much better than everyone else at everything. And another thing. Be careful out there. I don’t want to be hearing no news that you’ve gone missing or you’re dead, alright?  Keep it safe. You see something wrong, you run. Don’t try to be a hero.  

Sincerely, 

Sgt James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th

  
To my darlin,  

You either didn’t reply to my last letter or you haven’t gotten it yet. Either way, I’m going to take it upon myself to mail you again.  We got into some action a couple days ago, and one of the guys, Dum Dum, you’d like him, started asking us if we had anyone to go back home to after the war. I figured you wouldn’t get too mad if I mentioned you. The rest of the guys really wanna meet you, based on what I told them. I showed them a picture of you, that one where you’re laughing at something Steve had said and you look so genuinely happy. I know that you don’t like that picture, but it’s one of my favorites of you. Plus, it’s not like you have a million photographs of yourself just casually lying around.  I’ve gotten pretty good with a sniper, if I do say so myself. It’s not that hard training anymore, I think I’ve gotten used to it by now.  Have you heard from Steve lately? I bet he’s still trying to get in, no matter what it takes. I don’t think he’s ever considered the possibility of death, like you.  Anyway, you should write back soon so I don’t have to worry about you as much. Just a quick message saying you’re fine is enough for me.  

From, 

Bucky

  
Y/N,  

Fuck this. You’re not responding to these, and that’s worrying me because this is a war, and you are a part of this.  You better not just be not mailing back because what I’m gonna say next will sound stupid if nothing’s happening.  You better not be dead or something. You haven’t written in three months, and that scares me so fucking much. I keep trying to tell myself that nothing’s happened to you, but I keep getting that really bad feeling that I shouldn’t be having. Because it’s you.  I asked the big guy around here if there was any news on your squad, but he said that there wasn’t anything to report. I can’t help but feel like he’s wrong about that.  You can’t be dead. You can’t be. I know you better than that, baby doll. You’re stronger and more independent than that. You probably stole a plane and dropped some bombs on the other guys, yeah?  Its funny, you thought that you were the one who was chasing me, but really, I’m the one chasing you.  I’m terrified that I’m gonna lose you. I never was able to say it to you unless I felt like I was gonna lose you.  I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.  Please come back. I miss you so fucking much, it’s probably pathetic. That picture I have of you doesn’t do your beauty enough justice. I miss you calling me by my actual name. You’re the only person that I like saying my name. It just sounds better. Everything is better with you.  

James

  
———

  
Bucky was sitting in his tent, thinking of you and the lack of letters he had received from you, when Dum Dum walked in.

  
“We got a young dame here for ya, Bucky,” he said.

  
“Not in the mood, Dum Dum,” he grumped.

  
“Are you sure?” His friend asked, and he nodded.

  
“This ones quite the looker, though. Looks a bit familiar, if you ask me. She says she knows ya.”  
That caught Bucky’s attention.

“What’d you say?”

  
“Asked if James was here. When I said that there was a James, he was just called Bucky, she said that that was you,” Dum Dum said, but Bucky was already walking outside, trying to confirm his suspicions.

  
His jaw dropped when he saw you, milling about near the flag post, dressed in a brown button up dress and your hair shorter than before, reaching your shoulders.

  
“Y/N,” he breathed, and then bolted to you. “Y/N!”

  
You turned your head at hearing him, a smile already crossing your lips. “Hey, there, sarge!”

  
He stood in front of you, absolutely speechless. “How did…what….”

  
You merely laughed, pulling him in for a hug. “I missed you, too, James.” He tightened his grip on you, one hand on the small of your back and another holding the back of your head, and you tightened your grip on him. “I got your letters,” you said once you two broke apart.

  
“Why…why didn’t you ever respond to them? I’ve been goin’ crazy thinking you were dead!” He exclaimed.

  
“I’m really sorry about that. Things just got…intense,” you said quietly, your gaze reaching the floor. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

  
He nodded, taking one of your hands in his, and led you to his quarters. Once you two were alone, he asked, “So? What happened to you this whole time? And how the hell did you get here?”

  
You took in a deep breath. “My squad, we were…” You stopped yourself from saying the complete truth. “They were killed in a bombing.” You veered off from the truth. The truth was, was that the bombs had hit everyone in your group, including yourself. Your flesh had burned, sizzled, and limbs had been ripped apart, but almost instantly, you were put back together again. You repaired yourself, the skin reverting back to normal and your appendages re-growing instantaneously. The only damage that was done was to your hair, and even then, most of it was salvaged from the explosion.

  
Bucky looked you over. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

  
“I’m fine, James, really,” you said, “I was taking care of some business at another base a few miles away, and when I came back, all of my friends were dead.”

  
In reality, you had to watch as your friends exploded into several pieces, limbs flying, blood seeping into the snow, the stench of death everywhere.

  
But he couldn’t know that.

  
Bucky breathed a sigh, mostly of relief. “And how’d you get here?”

  
“I was assigned to the nearest squad that suited my abilities,” you said, doing a salute. “Staff Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N, sharpshooter, assigned to the Howling Commandos, sir!”

  
Bucky’s jaw dropped. You were a staff sergeant? You were an entire rank above him?

  
Of course you were.

  
“That’s not a surprise,” he said with a smile.

  
“Oh?” you rose an eyebrow. “Then how about this?”

  
Placing a hand on his cheek, you pressed your lips to his.

  
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. Not initially, at least. Your lips were so soft, and the kiss was so gentle and delicate, that he was almost so apprehensive as to break away from his first kiss with you.

  
But he didn’t. He kept right on kissing you, one hand wrapping around you securely. This was what he had always wanted. This was what he had waited so long for.

  
You broke away from the kiss momentarily, only to unbutton your dress, one button at a time, until you had revealed yourself to him.

  
“Are you sure?” He asked slowly as you kept eye contact with him.  
“You asked me why I didn’t believe that you could love me,” you said simply, “And then I read your letters.”

  
“And…?”

  
You kissed him once more. “I believe you. And…” You looked into his eyes, the storm slowly calming down. “I love you.”  
With those words, you pressed your body against his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and connected your lips with his once more, making everything feel complete.

  
—

  
The next morning, you woke up with the first rays of sunlight. Your naked body was pressed against the equally nude body of the brown-haired man that you loved oh so much, his arms wound tightly against you, keeping you against him.

  
You felt full. So entirely filled with love, with his love, that you could barely imagine that this all was real.

  
To think that the four year old girl and that four year old boy would one day be like this.

  
You felt your chest tighten as the strangest tears escaped from your eyes, the salty liquids running from your eyes and dropping onto his chest. The tears weren’t ones of sadness, and they weren’t ones of happiness. They were tears of completion. Tears of fullness. Tears of…

  
You loved him so much, so entirely and so deeply. The feeling was intense, indescribable.  
You didn’t want it to ever end. You wanted to stay with him, like this, for as long as you possibly could. As long as…

  
As long as you lived. You wanted to be with him, for however long that was.

  
——-

  
You all were walking on the trail, most likely somewhere near the French border.

  
“Je me souviens quand je suis plus pétit et ma famille voyageons ici,” Jacques said in his foreign tongue.

  
“Ah bon? Vraiment?” Gabe asked.

  
“What’s he saying?” Bucky asked you for translation.

  
“He says that he remembers this place. He came here with his family,” you said. “So you can get us to the next base from here?”

  
“Peut-être,” Jacques said with a shrug.

  
“I’m guessing that means that he can get us there,” Dum Dum said with a nervous laugh.

  
All of you were a disparate looking bunch, a rag tag type of group with a clear objective.

  
Bucky held your hand in his, a hand on his rifle as you walked. You were feeling light and airy, still floating from happiness. Your guard was down. You weren’t alert. You were unsuspecting.  
That’s why you didn’t expect to see the enemies that descended upon all of you, surrounding you in a circle.

  
Before anyone could even say anything, the men dressed in black fired tranquilizer darts at all of you, successfully knocking you all out.

  
The last thing you saw was him.

  
——–

  
“Staff Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N,” an accented voice said, waking you up from your drunken stupor.

  
“Can you hear me, Miss Y/L/N?” Another voice asked.

  
Bucky…Bucky.

  
Where was he…?

  
“James!” you shouted, feeling a burst of energy escape from you.  
Your eyelids fluttered open, seeing that you were strapped down onto a cot, an IV connected to your vein.

  
Something else, too. The doctors that were standing around you were on the floor, picking themselves up. When they tried to get closer to you, they were seemingly stopped by some…invisible force.

  
“Miss Y/L/N, could you please drop the force field? We only wish to talk,” one of the doctors said.  
Force field? What were they talking about?

  
“Where’s James?” you asked upsettedly. “Where is he?”

  
“Mr. Barnes is in captivity. He is fine, I assure you,” the other doctor said, but you felt like you didn’t believe him.

  
“Where is he?” You insisted, but they wouldn’t answer. Finally, one if the doctors moved to your IV. “What are you-” Just then, the doctor did something to it, and you were out like a light.

  
—–

  
You faded in an out of consciousness, drugs being continually pumped into your system so that you weren’t allowed to be aware of what was happening to you.

  
It seemed like forever. Repetitive, never ending. It never stopped, that draining feeling you continually felt. Whatever they were doing to you was certainly affecting you, but you didn’t know in what way.

  
One day, though, you felt the sedatives in the IV that was connected to you abruptly cease, as a tall, blond man yanked them away from you.

  
“Y/N,” the man said, almost pityingly, the voice sounding familiar yet the body most definitely not. “What did they do to you?”

  
Your brain was too foggy to even attempt to think up anything, or any response. He rose you to your feet, only for you to nearly stumble down to the ground.  
“We need to go, Y/N, now,” the man said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  
Why was that voice just so familiar? So memorable. So important.

  
Who was that?

  
“Steve…?” you questioned, slow to believe that it could possibly be him. Your mind wasn’t entirely clear yet, but you knew for a fact that Steve was around your height, and he most definitely wasn’t strong, like this. Yet you still got that strong feeling that this, in some way, was Steve. The one you’d known all of your life.

  
“Yes, Y/N, it’s Steve,” he said. “I’m here to rescue you all.”

  
Rescue you all? From where? From who? What was happening?  
He sighed and threw you over his shoulder as you knocked out from the extensive drugs you were given.

  
———

  
You stirred later on in the voyage for the first time after three days of travel back to base.

  
Your eyes fluttered open at night time, when camp was set up and the rescued soldiers were going to bed. You immediately felt alert and tense, as though you couldn’t trust anyone around you.

  
“Hey, Y/N,” a voice gently said to the right of you, causing you to nearly jump. “Woah, there, doll, it’s okay; it’s alright.”

  
“James?” you asked, your mind slowly clearing up.

  
“That’s right, doll, it’s James,” he said, seemingly relieved that you still knew who he was.

  
“Where are we?” you asked, “I was…in this room with doctors?”

  
Bucky took in a breath and said, “We were captured by Hydra. They did something to us…” He looked at you, and he said, “To you.”

  
You were sitting upright, now, worried at the news. “What?”

  
“There was this explosion, right? And you…you made this…force field around all of us. It saved us,” he said. “And then your back…you have these tattoos of wings on them, and they become wings. And…you got hurt and healed yourself.”

  
Your heart began to sink. He knew, and he was clearly confused.

  
Might as well come clean.

  
“No, James. They-they didn’t do this to me,” you said.

  
“What? What do you mean?” he asked, clearly baffled.

  
You sighed. “Remember that night, when I got mad after you asked if I slept with Steve?”

  
“Yeah,” he said.

  
“That night, something happened to me. I changed. There was this woman, and she kind of…activated these abilities in me. I became like this,” you said, “And I’ve been like this ever since.”

  
Bucky slumped, finally understanding. “That’s why you wanted to enlist.”

  
“Yes,” you admitted, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

  
He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “You’re like an angel.”

  
“What?” you asked.

  
“You protect people. You heal. You fly. You have wings,” he smiled, “That sounds a lot like an angel to me.”

  
“You’re…you’re not mad?” you asked, having expected the absolute worst.

  
“Mad? Hell no! Why would I be mad that my baby doll came into this war so that she could protect people,” he said. “I’m kinda bummed that you didn’t share this with me, but I understand. I mean, have you seen Steve now? That punk’s practically my height and he’s famous as being “Captain America”. We’re all a bit strange, aren’t we?“

  
You nodded, relief flooding inside of you. "Yeah.”

  
——- 

  
You hadn’t revealed your abilities to the army, and you didn’t plan on ever doing so. The rest of the Howling Commandos knew, and relied on you from time to time when it came in terms of any type of defense or healing. You were useful. You helped. You did good.  
As time passed, you all took down several Hydra bases, successfully weakening the opposition.

  
“How long we gonna do this, James?” you laughed as you lay in bed with him, breathless from the activities you both had just partaken in.

  
“Do what?” he asked, running a hand down your face. 

  
“Alla this,” you said, turning over to him. “This…life we got for each other. How long we gonna be like this?”

  
Bucky sucked in a breath and shrugged, “Til’ you marry me, I guess.”

  
You laughed, poking him in the ribs. “Yeah, okay.”

  
“What–I’m serious!” he exclaimed. “I wanna marry you, baby doll.”

  
The playful smile left your lips as you looked at him, seriously now. You scanned his face in an attempt to see if he was just joking, but you couldn’t tell. “You playin’ around?”

  
“No! This time I’m–I’m completely serious.” He looked up into your y/e/c eyes, reflecting the onset of the storm in his own blue eyes. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

  
You gaped. “Holy shit,” you breathed aloud. “You do know that marriage is like…a permanent thing, right?”

  
“Last I checked, it was, yeah,” he said.

“And you want that with me?” You were confused beyond belief. You couldn’t see how he wanted you in his life forever, forever. That was an extremely long time.

  
“I’ve always wanted that with you,” he said, “Otherwise, I’d still be doing what I used to do.”

  
You were speechless. “Well, damn, Barnes, you sure make it tough for a girl to even think of rejectin’ that offer,” you kissed him deeply, breaking away only to tell him, “Yes. I will marry you, James. I always would.”

  
He beamed, pulling you into his loving embrace. “I’d hoped you’d say that.” He kissed you again, taking a moment to inhale your scent. “I’ll get you a real nice diamond ring, just for you, once this is all over. And then we’ll get married and you’ll be Mrs. Barnes.”

  
“Or you could be Mr. Y/L/N,” you teased, the smile on your face not showing any signs of ever diminishing.

  
He chuckled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

  
“I gotta say, sarge…” you said, running a hand through his hair. “I love ya, too.”

  
He reached over to the night desk next to the bed, and pulled out his dog tags. “Until I do get you a ring, though, you can have this.”

  
You looked down at the silver chain, reading them. “JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 43 A P” were written in clear print.

  
“This is really fucking lame,” you smiled, tears threatening to spill over your eyelids as you put it on over your head. “And I love you for it.”

  
“What can I say? Gotta make sure the other boys know you’re my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm around you. “And I think it looks really hot on you.”

  
You beamed. “Why, thank you kindly.”

  
——–

  
Winter was again approaching rapidly. Snow fell down onto the mountains, freezing frost froze over the land, and you knew in your gut that the war was nearly over.

  
Nearly.

  
“It’s too fucking cold for this shit, Steve,” you said, rubbing your hands up against your arms.

  
The three of you were on a mountain with the rest of the Howling Commandos, about to intercept the HYDRA train that would be appearing at any moment, now. The anticipation was killing you.

  
“It won’t be too bad, Y/N,” Steve said. “Besides, you don’t have to try the zip line like Bucky over here.”

  
Bucky just grimaced. “Remember that time I made you go on that roller coaster on Coney Island?”

  
“Yeah, and I threw up?” Steve asked.

  
“This isn’t payback for that, right?” he asked.

  
Steve just smiled. “Now why would I do that?”

  
Shaking his head, Bucky playfully punched Steve in the arm. “Punk.”

  
“Jerk.”

  
You smiled. You didn’t know how much longer things would be like this. After you and Bucky were married, and the war was over, where would Steve fit in? Most likely somewhere, but would you all remain this close?

  
You weren’t sure.

  
“Okay, time to go!” Steve called out as Gabe, Bucky and you all prepared to go.

  
“Let’s make this nice and fast, okay, doll?” Bucky asked, and you nodded.

  
“As always, sarge,” you said as the tattoos on your back spread out to become wings.

  
And then the train came into view, meaning that the time had come.

  
You flew as fast as your wings could carry you, until you landed side by side with the other three men.

  
You followed as Steve and Bucky entered into the train’s cabin, sticking closely to Bucky’s side as they made their way inside.

  
Just as Steve walked into another cabin, the door between the two of you closed, sealing Steve off from the two of you.

  
“Steve-!” you were about to say, only for Bucky to jump in front of you, firing a gun at some masked crusader.

  
“Stay behind me, Y/N,” Bucky ordered as you two ducked behind some boxes.

  
“I can help!” you offered.

  
“Not this time,” he said, “You just need to stay close, alright? I can’t lose you.”

  
Your heart slowed as you tightened your grip on his dog tags. “Okay.”

  
You stayed down as Bucky fought against the enemy, Steve joining in a few moments later.

  
Everything happened so quickly.

Bucky had lifted up Steve’s shield, and then the enemy fired at him, causing an explosion into the side of the train.

  
You couldn’t think as Bucky fell out.

  
“James!” you shouted as you ran to the opening, Steve already there. “JAMES!”

  
You saw the storm in his eyes appear again, only for the metal he was holding on to to break, causing his descent.

  
You weren’t losing him. Not now, and not ever.

  
You dove outside of the train, your wings spreading as you barreled towards him at full speed. His arms were outstretched, prepared to reach you. You were so close to him, just a little bit more, just a little bit-

  
crash.

  
He landed in the snow, and soon after, you did, too, your wings not stopping as you collided with the icy material.

  
And then everything went black.

  
——

  
Steve looked down at Bucky and your files.

  
Staff Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N – Steve continued reading past a picture of you, and read the words under it. Inactive.

  
Sergeant James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes. Inactive.

  
His two best friends in the entire world. They were gone, now. Both of them, taken out in the same instance.

  
This was never supposed to happen.

  
He had thought that your powers prevented you from dying. When a team searched the area where you and Bucky had fell, they found nothing. Nothing was there to be found; you’d most likely been buried under countless feet of snow.

  
Maybe even six feet under.

  
All that he knew was, was that he had to go on fighting. In memory of the two of you.

  
It was the least he could do.

  
——

  
“Angel,” the man said. “You did well on your mission.”

  
You didn’t say anything. You dared not say anything. There was nothing to say. There was no purpose to you, no you without your missions.

  
And you fulfilled them. You fulfilled them, and you did them well. You did what was required of you, and you didn’t bother to question anything about it.

  
Except–

  
“Was the asset slowing you down at any point during the mission?” the man asked. At hearing mention of your “other half”, you looked up. “Did he?”

  
“No,” you said flatly.

  
The man patted you on your shoulder. “Alright, then. But, you both should practice together. You can only get stronger from practice.”

  
“Yes, sir,” you said, and dismissed yourself, walking to the training room.

  
You found that the Soldier was already there, unwrapping his hands from the quarrel he obviously had with the punching bag.

  
You didn’t know the Soldier, or anything about him, and he, likewise, knew nothing about you. Even so, you were both drawn to each other, like magnets.  
He had the lightest sheen of sweat on his skin, his jaw clenched in determination. Even though you swore you’d never seen him before, he still created a reaction in you that you couldn’t deny.

  
He knew that, too, probably because he’d felt the same thing many times before.

  
You both had engaged in amorous activities together, before, the first time because it was to “provide health services” that medicine couldn’t, and every time thereafter was of your both mutual willingness.

  
You weren’t attached to him. You didn’t love him. It was just a convenience. Something to do while waiting for a mission.

  
“Soldier,” you said, standing in front of him now.

  
“Angel,” he said in that deep voice of his, his eyes like that of a storm about to crash unforgivingly onto the world below.

  
You stared at him and he looked back at you, the intensity between the two of you only deepening as time passed.

  
He grabbed hold of your face and smashed his lips against yours, pulling you into an all-bruising kiss. His tongue worked it’s way into your mouth, your bodies colliding as you both eagerly worked each other out of your individual clothing.

  
His hands, both the bionic one and his natural one, massaged your skin, his finger tips working at the soft, supple flesh he found there.

  
A barrage of kisses were showered over your neck, your mouth barely able to resist the urge to vocalize the pleasurable sensations you were feeling.  
His kisses were everywhere, his lips on every inch of your skin. You wanted him close, closer, as close to you as possible until you both were sharing each other’s warmth.

  
The need for him grew and grew and grew until it was insatiable–desperate and needy.

  
He lined his body with yours and joined with you, moving his hips along with yours.

  
Your mouth fell open as you gaped, “James-”

  
You weren’t allowed time to even think of what you had just said, what you had just called him. He rammed into you again, and again, and again, until you were on the brink of the tipping point, just a tiny bit more until you were over the edge.

  
That was when he leaned down, biting down into your neck on a place that you’d always viewed as your weak spot, and you found yourself tightening and clenching against him, holding him in place inside of you.

  
He followed soon after you, a groan passing his lips. “Y/N,” he said breathlessly, falling into you.  
When he slid out of you, he merely looked at you. “What?” You asked, standing up and making your way into your clothes again.

  
“What did you call me?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  
You thought about it. “James, I think.”

  
“Y/N,” he repeated, and you got that strange feeling that it was something familiar. Something so familiar.

  
But you didn’t know what.

  
“Before this, Angel, we were somebody,” he said.

  
“I know that,” you said. You knew that you had a life before this, but you didn’t know what that was consisting of. You didn’t know your name. Your real name, at least. As far as you were concerned, you were one person, and that was “The Angel”. Everything else didn’t really matter.

  
Unless it did, and you just didn’t remember it.

  
“What if those were our names from before?” He mused, and your eyes narrowed.

  
“How would I know your name and you know mine?” You asked, trying to find a flaw in his theory  
He shrugged, “Maybe we knew each other.”

  
“Knew each other how?” You didn’t really want to think about it, but you humored his idea.

  
“Maybe we were lovers,” he said seriously, looking directly at you.

  
“Oh, sure,” you said, fixing your hair, which was past your shoulder blades, now.

  
“I’m serious,” he said. You turned to him, and he only continued, “We have that connection, right?”

  
You breathed out. “Yeah, sure.”

  
“And I always seem to know where your weak spots are,” he said, “How could I know that without you and I being…something more in the past?”

  
He brought up a valid point. It made sense, it really did, but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe that you were missing out on a life that you had before. You didn’t want to believe that you once had a life, even one with him, at all.

  
You didn’t want to believe that you had your happiness taken away from you.

  
“Find me some evidence, soldier,” you said. “And then I might believe you.” Before you left, you turned back to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, though, alright? Don’t want you getting hurt.”  
He tensed for a moment, and then walked back to you. Looking down at your hand, he saw that you were clutching the metal necklace you always had.  
The necklace that said his name on it.

  
“Isn’t that necklace proof enough?” he asked, causing you to look back up at him.

  
He knew. He knew that you knew, or at least had suspicions.

  
You two were always drawn to each other. Always, in the end.

  
“What am I supposed to do, James? What are we supposed to do?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky. “If they think that we knew anything about the lives we used to have, they’d-”

  
“They’d take away what we knew,” he said, “And we’d be back at square one.”

  
“Exactly,” you said. “And if…what you say is true…that we used to be something…I can’t lose that. Or you.”

  
He rose a hand to your cheek. “If I gave you this,” he pointed to the silver chain that you held so tightly, “Then that means that we were more than what we are now. We were more than just sex.”

  
“Like, we loved each other,” you murmured softly.

  
He nodded. “And I don’t want to lose that. Or you.”

  
“So, what?” you asked him. “What, are you saying that you love me or something? Because love gets you killed, you know that, Ja-”

  
“Maybe,” he said, “But maybe it gives us something to fight for. How else did we end up in this situation? Together?”

  
Your chest tightened. It was too much to think about, entirely too much. You felt like your heart was going to get crushed with the heavy burden you bore on your heart, but you also felt like now you shared that burden.

  
With him.

  
You did something you didn’t plan on. You kissed him. Again. And again. And again. You didn’t want to forget this. You didn’t want to forget him. You didn’t want your happiness to be taken away again. You didn’t want to be broken anymore. You just wanted to stay in this moment, like this, with him.

  
Did you love him? You weren’t sure anymore. Maybe you didn’t even know what love was. Maybe you did. Maybe you couldn’t show it properly because of all of the inhibitions preventing you from loving him like you wanted. Like you should’ve.

  
“I can’t do this,” you broke down, pulling away from him.

  
“Y/N, Y/N,” he said to you, holding onto you as you cried.

  
“No, I can’t do this,” you cried, “I’m not…I can’t be…” You felt your body shake with your sobs. “I don’t deserve that love of yours. I don’t. I’ve killed people, James, and-”

  
“I have, too,” he tried to reassure you. “We’ve both done wrong. And if I learned anything in math, I learned that two wrongs make a right.”

  
You looked into his eyes as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “What if we lose each other? What then? What am I supposed to do when you get your memories wiped, or I get my memories wiped? What then?”  
He bit his bottom lip and then kissed your forehead. “We’ll still be there for each other. We’re always drawn to each other, aren’t we? This relationship would just mend itself. Again and again, until we’re free.”

  
“And when you’re in cyrofreeze?” you asked, knowing that he was due to go back into the ice at any time now.

  
“You fight for both of us,” he said. “And you wait.”

  
“But that’s so long-”

  
“It won’t be long. Not when you’re waiting for the person you’re meant to be with,” he said, rubbing circles onto your cheeks, his hands holding your face gently. “And one day, this will all end. Everything comes to an end, and the same thing will happen here. You just gotta be patient.”

  
“Patience is something I was never good at,” you said.

  
“I’m sure you’ll have a lot of practice to remedy that,” he said.

  
His words provided some sort of comfort, but you were still terribly, horribly, completely frightened. “What if…what if they make me forget before you come out again?”

  
He pulled you into a hug, where you felt warm and safe. “Then I’ll wait for you until I don’t have to wait anymore.”

  
And that was what calmed you down the most.

  
——-

  
He went into cyrofreeze, but you didn’t. You were always the one who was on the outside. The Soldier was backup, a reinforcement. But you, you were the one who was doing all of the endless missions.

  
It was difficult to remain in touch with your humanity. The constant blood shed, the constant death–it took a toll on you, to the point where you nearly had a nervous break down during a pursuit of your target.

  
“What’s wrong with her?” A man asked. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know his name. You didn’t care to find out.

  
“She’s becoming detached to life itself,” a doctor explained, “If this continues, and she has no real human relationship, bond, connection, whatever you want to call it; she’ll become unpredictable. Her abilities are strange, different than anything we’ve ever known or seen before. The way her abilities work, is where she exists to help people. To be with people. And having her execute missions and have no actual relationship…that is harming her psychologically more than anything ever could physically.”

  
“So what do you suggest we do?” The man asked. “There’s no one here to ‘form a bond’ with her.”

  
“There is the Soldier,” the doctor offered. “They were lovers before, were they not?”

  
“That was before. This is now,” the man said. “What if they remember something? What if they try to so something foolish?”

  
“If they display signs of remembering anything from the past, simply wipe those memories away. The memories they have of each other, however, should remain intact. Simply put, she needs him. It’s the only way.” The doctors instructions were clear. Precise. Obvious. Almost too clear and precise and obvious, almost like he knew something. “They are already close, are they not?”

  
“They both work closely together, if that’s what you mean,” the man said, “They’ve also partaken in copulation before, for medical reasons.”

  
“Then some sort of bond has already begun between the two if them. All that is necessary is for them to get even closer, until she can function properly, as before.”

  
It was almost strange how the doctor seemed to know exactly what was needed in order for her to survive, but she didn’t say anything. All she knew, was that he would be coming out of cyrofreeze.

  
She could barely contain her excitement. She had only seen him a handful of times throughout the years, and that wasn’t enough times for her. She had missed him horribly in the most tragic, desperate, and pitiful way possible.

  
“How long should he be out of cyrofreeze?” the doctor asked the man.

  
“A week or so. There’s a mission that I would like to be done on a particular man named Nicholas Fury,” the blond haired man said as they all approached the cyrofreeze tank, where Bucky lay frozen in time.

  
The doctor pressed a combination on the door, and the tank’s inside walls began to melt gradually, the temperature warming up inside of the contraption. Once the ice was gone, the door was opened, and out he came.

  
His hair was longer, and he looked as formidable as ever. But still, on the inside, you knew who he was. You knew how he was.

  
To you, at least.

  
“Soldier, you are to travel with the Angel to this location,” the man said, handing him a paper. “And once you are there, you are to wait for this specific vehicle. The man on that paper is your target. Get rid of him, and do it swiftly. We don’t want a scandal on our hands.”

  
“Yes, sir,” Bucky said, his eyes glossed over.

  
“Good. You both can go prepare. We leave in thirty minutes,” the man told you both, and the two of you nodded, not daring to make any indication that you two were already something more than two co workers.

  
You both walked to the weapons arsenal, gathering artillery for the mission. You prepare your weapons in silence, partly because you’re nervous since it’s been so long since you’ve last seen him, and partly because you just don’t know what to say, exactly.

  
It’s been years for you, but mere minutes for him.

  
Finally, once you both are all packed, he turned to you. “Angel,” he said, so that if anyone were listening in, they wouldn’t think anything of it. “How long has it been?” His voice was soft, gentle.

  
“I’ve lost count,” you whispered. He touched your shoulder and you nearly jumped, tense at feeling another humans touch that wasn’t a violent one. “Sorry,” you apologized, relaxing as he looked at you.

  
“What’s happened to you?” He seemed genuinely concerned, wanting only that which was best for you. He wanted to help. He wanted to make things better for you.

  
“So much,” you whispered. It felt unbearable, like you were choking. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You were all messed up.

  
Because of them.

  
He pulled you into a hug, and you expected tears to come. But they didn’t. He held you and you just held him, so lost and confused and needy and desperate and so wanting of affection that you’d been lacking over the years. It was like a pain that wouldn’t go away, a pain that was never ending and unendurable. It hurt to even think about it, to even consider the situation and fate you were left in.

  
How did you get here? How did you get involved with these people?

  
Most importantly, why couldn’t you ever escape?

  
Bucky looked at your eyes, his own reflecting how you currently felt. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there. I am so, so sorry.”

  
“It’s not your fault,” you said. “It’s better for you to go in cyrofreeze than me. I wouldn’t wish this life on even my worst enemy.”

  
“But you’re getting hurt,” he said.

  
“I can’t get hurt,” you reminded him.

  
“Not physically, no.” He took one of your hands into his. “I was talking about mentally. About the inside.”

  
You looked at him, and felt the emotion you felt get lodged into your throat. “James, I-”

  
“It’s alright,” he said, “I’m here for you, now, alright? You don’t need to carry all of that burden anymore.”

  
You wanted to believe him, but that was the thing about the darkness. It was so much easier to accept into your life than the light. It wasn’t as easy to push away the darkness, however. Once it took root in your heart, it rarely, if ever, went away.

  
You wanted to believe that the darkness could be removed from you, but you just couldn’t see how. Not when you were the “asset” that you were. Not when you lived a life like this; where you were drowning in darkness and you couldn’t even begin to see a way out.

  
“It’s hard,” you told him, heaving a breath. “It’s harder…than anything I’ve probably ever experienced.”

  
“Then let me share that pain with you,” he said, holding your face in his hands. “You don’t need to go about this alone. I’ll always be here for you.”

  
“What if you’re not?” you asked him.

  
He pressed his forehead against yours. “I’ll always be here for you. In some way. Alright?”

  
“Okay.”

  
——

  
You both had lost the target, but Bucky knew a way to find him again.

  
“How do you know he’d be here?” you questioned as the two of you stood on the roof of an apartment building.

  
“I just do,” he shrugged.

  
You decided not to question it, instead opting for just keeping your mouth shut. You were too anxious to even think of doing anything else.

  
“What if we just left right now?” he suddenly broke into your thoughts.

  
“What?” you asked.

  
“What if we just went, and never came back?” he wondered, “And we loved a life? Together?”

  
“HYDRA would find us,” you said pessimistically. “And then they’d wipe our memories and just keep on using us.”

  
“What if we went off the grid? What if we disappeared, and they never found us?” he asked.

  
“We’d get found eventually,” you attempted to reason with him, “HYDRA is everywhere–you know that better than anyone.”

  
“But I just can’t accept that–that our fate is to forever be…monsters,” he said. “I want a better life for you. Something better than this.”

  
It was hard, being in this situation. You knew that it was hard, and you knew that it was nearly impossible to keep your head on straight without losing yourself entirely when you lived a life like this. Especially when you wanted a life with someone else who lived a life just as bad as yours.

  
“I miss whatever we lost,” you murmured.

  
And you did. You missed the probable simplicity you had both lived in the past. You missed having a life that belonged to you, and you alone; not that you had any idea as to what your life was like before.

  
Just then, there was movement in the dark apartment you two were eyeing. Bucky aimed his sniper, and in a short amount of time, fired two shots.

  
“Mission accomplished,” he said, rising to his feet. He looked to you and said, “We need to report back, Angel.”

  
“I take it you have your way back under control?” you asked, spreading your wings. “I can always try to give you a lift-”

  
“Never could carry me before,” he said, and then began sprinting off into the night.

  
You smiled, and flew upwards towards the stars.

  
——

  
“This is your next target,” the blond haired man said, shoving a picture into your face. “He’s similar in strength and physical prowess to the Soldier, so you two will receive back up.”

  
Both you and Bucky looked down to the photograph, studying the features of the man in the picture. He was strongly-built, with blond hair and blue eyes. In the picture, his jaw was clenched with determination, and you felt, for some reason or another, the strange feeling of knowing him.

  
Maybe.

  
Pushing the baffling thought aside, you nodded. “We got a hit that he’s on this highway, so you need to get going right now.” He looked to you, “Angel, can you fly him in?”

  
You swallowed. “I can try, sir.”

  
“You can, or you will?”

  
“I will, sir,” you said, your face looking straight to him.

  
You weren’t going to fail. Not today.

  
——–

  
Dodging the punches from the dark-skinned man on the bridge, you managed to connect your leg with his head, sending him toppling over in pain.

  
Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t your target.

  
You walked over to him and pressed a foot onto his throat in an attempt to make him pass out, only for him to grab your foot and pull it out from underneath you, making you hit your head on the back of the pavement.

  
“Shit,” the man breathed, only for you to stand up. Your head stung and hurt a bit, but you didn’t mind. You felt the pain ebb away as you healed yourself automatically.

  
You cracked your neck.

  
Sticking your hands out in front of you, you created a force field, the blast of energy sending him flying.

  
That was when you heard an explosion.

  
Looking down over the bridge, you saw him struggling with a red haired woman.

  
Picking up the sniper, you trained it on the woman, and managed to pull the trigger on the space above her heart.

  
She faltered, moving to the side behind a car, only for the blond haired man in the photo to come flying at Bucky.

  
You could’ve taken a shot at the woman again, finished her off, but you didn’t. You were too busy worrying about Bucky.

  
Before anything could become any worse, you flew down to his side, creating a force field around him as the red head fired a shot in his direction.

  
As the smoke cleared, you caught sight of the target.

  
“Y/N?” he asked, “Bucky?”

  
The mission had already went south. There was no point in staying behind.

  
Lifting him in your arms, you flew away as quickly as you possibly could.

  
——–

  
Bucky wasn’t responding to anything you said or did.

  
“James, you have to say something,” you said. “Anything. Please.”

  
“That man. He knew us,” he said, “And I think…we knew him.”

  
“But how?” you asked. You had felt it, too, and you had that vague sensation that you were forgetting something exponentially important, but you just couldn’t pinpoint what that was. “We’re old, James. Really old. How could we know someone that young?”

  
“I don’t know. I really don’t; I just have this…feeling, that…” he began, only for several HYDRA doctors to come in.

  
“Alexander Pierce needs to see the Asset,” a doctor said, as you both stood up together. “Not the Angel.”

  
——

  
Bucky came back in later that night, rolling over onto the bed.  
“What happened? What’d they ask?” You were already prepared for the worst.

  
He just shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  
He had his memories wiped.

“Everything?” you asked.

  
He was quiet for a moment and then he asked, “We…we’re lovers, right?”

  
Relief flooded through you. “Yes,” you said, holding onto one of his hands. “We’re lovers.”

  
“We’ve been working together for over seventy years?” he asked for clarification, and you nodded.

  
“Yes,” you said, tears threatening to spill over your eyelids, “We have.”

  
“And we’ve pledged our allegiance to HYDRA?” he asked, “Where we put them first, over everything else?”

  
That was new. “What?” you asked. “I thought that you-”

  
“We finish the mission tomorrow,” he said, his voice slightly cold. “That’s the most important thing.”

  
“James-” you reached out to him, touching his shoulder, only for him to shrug it off.

  
“I’m not James,” he said. “Don’t call me that.”

  
He was changed. Different, somehow, but only in small, slight ways.

  
They must’ve done a memory wiping on his past, and everyone involving his past. Including himself.

  
So while he did know you, he didn’t know his name, and he didn’t know how he had previously been having thoughts of his own.

  
But now those thoughts are gone. Dead and buried.

  
———-

  
This time, the dark-skinned man had a pair of his own wings, albeit they were artificial.

  
Luckily for you, you had had years and years and years of more experience with wings and what factors were incorporated when it came to flying. You were a superior opponent to him in that regard, and you also had him matched in hand to hand combat.

  
“Y/N, right?” the man asked as he dodged one of your blows.

“Where’s you and Steve’s friend?”  
Steve. Why did that sound so familiar? Who was this man? Why did he evoke a feeling of being someone important, so entirely and infinitely important…?

  
You didn’t reply, merely attacking him once more as you managed to disable his flying device. As he began to fall from the sky, you dropped him off on a building, flying away in search of Bucky.  
Now that he had a full HYDRA mind set again, who know how reckless he would be for the cause. For all you knew, he may just try to sacrifice himself for the mission.

  
You searched for him on the ground, and then you searched for him in the sky.

  
And that was when you saw the bomb erupt on one of the flying contraptions in the sky. A figure fell out of the massive flying object, crashing into water, and soon you found another figure falling in the water after the first.

  
Upon closer inspection, you saw that it was none other than the love of your life.

  
You rapidly flew to the water where he was, as he dragged the blond haired man onto the sand.  
Steve.

  
The name ran through your mind, but you still didn’t know what to think about it.

  
“It’s time to go,” Bucky said in a low voice, his hair and clothing dripping with water.

  
“Where to?” you asked him, willing to follow his lead no matter where he went.

  
“To find out who exactly we are,” he said.

  
You nodded, looking down to his broken arm. Placing a hand on it, you began to heal him as quickly as possible, before HYDRA ended up finding you.

  
He slipped his hand into yours, and you both left the vicinity.

  
———

  
You observed the paintings that Captain America had apparently drawn in the forties, all of them of the same woman.

  
She had long y/h/c hair, with a pair of y/e/c eyes that looked striking in his representation of her. In one if the paintings, she had on a set of diamond earrings and a diamond necklace around her neck, a hand placed on the curve of her hip, and an arm supporting her head.  
Underneath the painting read a simple title, Y/N in diamonds, by Steven Grant Rogers, 1943.

  
Bucky squeezed your hand a little bit tighter.

  
You both walked through the exhibit, seeing the different pieces of your past that you both just couldn’t remember. The mural of the Howling Commandos, featuring all of your squad members and you both painted, looking determined and proud. The audio recording statin that you two had given your life in the defense of your country. The small film clips showing the three of you together. Living. Having a life.

  
Being somebody.

  
“They took this away from us,” Bucky said quietly, his voice low. “Everything.”

  
You leaned on his shoulder. “We’re still here, though, aren’t we?”

  
He looked down at you and nodded, the smallest hints of a smile passing his lips. “I’m glad…that we are.”

  
——–

  
Time passed as you and him grew back together. You’d helped each other remember things, bouncing ideas off of one another until you were able to gather one complete memory.

  
You might remember his mom’s name, and he might remember what school you all went to as kids.

  
You might wake up one night with a nightmare, and he’d soothe you by telling you everything he could remember about you, rubbing your shoulders and whispering how much he loved you and how lucky he was to still have you, after all of these years, after all of these decades.

  
Maybe one day he’d get frustrated about something meaningless, and you’d call him “sarge”, and suddenly everything else didn’t matter anymore.

  
Perhaps he’d take you out to go dancing at this vintage place, and you’d relive your times together like they were just only yesterday.

  
Or you would wrap up in each other’s warmth, reminiscing about the times when you would do the same thing on a cold winters day in the forties, when you two had silly crushes on each other and were still the best of friends.

  
When good news reached your ears, he would lift you in the air and spin you around, the both of you laughing giddily at the sheer beauty of being alive.

  
Sometimes you’d both get shaky and you wouldn’t be able to calm down from a of the terror you both felt, the anxiety you both endured, and you’d hold each other and rock one another and press such sweet, gentle, small kisses to one another’s skin that eventually you both had forgotten all of your fears.

  
And maybe on this one particular day, he would come home with a black, plush velvet box. He would place it in front of you, leaving you to question what it was.  
When you opened it, you could barely believe your eyes. You merely looked up into his blue ocean-like eyes, the storm calm and as clear a ever.

  
“I told you I’d get you a proper ring one day, doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! the epilogue isn't really necessary to complete the fic, but you can read it if you'd like.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue of "Storm", which was muchly requested on tumblr.

The team came back from their latest mission where they had to take care of some business with some organization in Russia. As you had been doing for the past eight months, you stayed behind at the Tower, spending time watching movies and reading through books and magazines instead of fighting crime and saving people.

When they did get back, they were battered and bruised, as always.

You set to work on healing them all of their injuries, and they would in turn give you words of their thanks and then they’d be on their way.

Healing people had always been a bit straining on you, but you didn’t mind. By the time you’d gotten through everyone, and there was only Bucky left to be healed, he looked at you with deep concern in his eyes as you fanned yourself with your hands.

“Is it hot in here?” you asked him with a weak laugh.

“Y/N…” He said softly, and you stopped him, already knowing what he was going to say.

“James, stop right there,” you told him. “Give me your arm.”

“Y/N.”

“James, give me your arm so I can heal it,” you reiterated, but he wouldn’t budge. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’d best give me your damn arm or I will smack you out the window!

“But-”

“James, I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” you snapped as he reluctantly held out his arm, allowing you the chance to heal him. Once you did so, you looked up at him and smiled. “There, see? It’s all good. Baby’s fine, and so am-” 

kick, kick.

Bucky noticed your annoyed expression and immediately thought that worst. “What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you reminded him. “Just…kicking, kicking away. Got a kid inside of me that wants to break my ribs, that’s all.”

Bucky relaxed, smiling at that.

The two of you had gotten married in a small chapel with just the two of you around a year a half ago. It was a small, intimate ceremony, where the both of you said your vows to one another and promised to always be together. 

When you got pregnant nine months ago, though, the two of you had panicked. You were an inhuman, and Bucky was a super soldier. How were you supposed to have a child together? How were you going to even give birth? Would the child have special abilities? Would they be normal? Would they be like you? Would they be like Bucky? Would they be like neither of you? Would they have no powers at all? Would their DNA be different? 

The both of you had so many questions that neither of you could answer, and so, out of desperation, you got into contact with te Avengers, and, by extension, Steve.

There wasn’t a particular reason as to why you and Bucky had been avoiding Steve. You had wanted to see him as much as he probably wanted to see you, but you knew that you both had changed; you’d all changed. He wasn’t the scrawny little kid from Brooklyn who drew you and painted you and made you feel beautiful, and he wasn’t the American soldier from 1945. You weren’t the waitress that grew up with them, and you weren’t Hydra’s Angel. Bucky wasn’t the smooth talking lady killer from the ‘40s, and he wasn’t the Winter Soldier.

You were all different, changed. You didn’t want to have to put Steve through seeing how different you all were. You were terrified that he wouldn’t even recognize you, that he wouldn’t be able to relate to you anymore.

However, he proved you wrong. He had embraced the both of you, and the changes you’d both undergone. At your reunion, many tears had been shed (mainly from you), and suddenly, life didn’t just include you and Bucky anymore.

The team welcomed Bucky and you with open arms, and while you hadn’t went on any missions, you did help with finding information and healing anyone when they got hurt. It was the least you could do, anyway.

Bucky placed a hand on your large belly, smiling to himself like a dork.

“What is it?” you asked him and he just kept on grinning and beaming with that stupid grin. “Don’t be a weirdo, weirdo.”

“I like feeling them kick,” he said softly as you noticed that tears rimmed his eyelids. 

Bucky had confessed to you, one night, that he was terrified of possibly hurting the poor child that the both of you had created together. Be it emotionally or physically, he was scared. He could carry up to two tons, and he was constantly holding himself back from revealing his full strength. With a helpless infant, though? He didn’t know how he could restrain himself that much, and that was why he was so frightened.

You had reassured him as you always did, telling him that everything would be alright, and you’d play it by ear. 

“You’re gonna be a better parent than me, James,” you laughed as he rubbed your full stomach. “I just know it.”

“Oh, no I’m not,” he smiled as he hugged you from the side, kissing your cheek affectionately. “Babies feel more of an attachment to their mothers, anyway.”

“Oh, not even!” you laughed and walked, or more like waddled, over to the couch, seating yourself down onto the cushions slowly. “I was a daddy’s girl, all the way.”

“That is not a valid argument,” he said as he followed to where you sat, situating himself beside you. “Just because you were a daddy’s girl does not mean that facts about that are wrong.”

“Okay, whatever,” you told him. “I’m just saying that Y/L/N girls are more attached to their fathers.”

“And I’m just saying that Barnes boys are more attached to their mothers,” he said.

“But we don’t even know the sex of the kid, yet,” you interjected. 

“There’s a fifty percent chance that they’re a boy,” he countered.

“And that other fifty percent goes to the chance of a girl,” you shot back. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, “Fine. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see if they’ll be James Jr.”

“Or Y/D/N!” you added enthusiastically. 

“Or y/d/n,” he repeated, and you sighed, leaning back into the warmth of his arms.

And that’s when you heard the sound of water dripping.

“Umm…” You trailed off, and looked down, finding that liquid was seeping in your lap and down onto the tiled floor. “Either I just peed, or…”

–

At 4:52 am the next morning, James Buchanan Barnes Jr was born to a Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes and James Buchanan Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end. please leave comments if you enjoyed, thank you!


End file.
